


En blanc et noir

by hongy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Eating Disorders, Family, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Forced Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, Joffrey Baratheon is His Own Warning, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Relapsing, Sadism, Self-Harm, Self-Indulgent, Sibling Incest, Smoking, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Summer, Tommen POV, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-12-26 07:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongy/pseuds/hongy
Summary: Tommen had spent most of his days alone. It was up until summer holiday when things had come to change as he'd spotted the red-headed girl who lived in the house next door. Little did he know what he'd then gotten himself involved in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really the best when it comes to summaries, apologies. I did put a lot of thought into this work so I'm hoping you'll all enjoy what's to come of it. Thank you for reading, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. Have a nice day. 
> 
> Also, trigger warning for implied self-harm.

 

 

 

 

I

  
  


          It was a bright and early June morning. The sound in which had awoken him had  now come to a stop. Silence, there was silence. His hand moved from the edge of his nightstand as he rubbed his eyes before drawing himself from the bed. He lived in a flat, a rather all too small one that his mother had selected for him. The flat was six stories high, and his neighbors were elderly people in which he assisted with their needs. The flat also appeared to be very old, there was no telling when the roof would cave in. 

 

         He lived on his own. He had no near relatives, no friends, all but himself and his kitten. It was decided that things would be better this way. And indeed they were.  _ He _ was better, he was stronger. There was no such a thing as living in a chaotic household- at least, it was no longer that way. He had recalled seeing the way his father had a special way of ‘rewarding’ his mother. The way his powerful hand came in contact with her cheek; the way she  _ screamed _ after supper. 

 

        His brother no longer possessed a ‘plaything.’ His kittens, all but one, had disappeared and all that was left was the sadistic smile on his brother’s face; hands stained with blood. He wondered whether he  _ truly _ was evil. Could there be such a thing? An evil person? Did God intend on making ‘evil’ people?  _ Why  _ did evil people exist?

 

        He no longer had a sister. It was on an October night where she had disappeared. He had sobbed for what seemed like hours when he had heard of her mysterious disappearance. 

 

       He would have much preferred to stay in bed and move not a muscle, but that was what was not expected of him. There were times where he would often doubt the path he chose. He had no friends, never did, and now what were the chances of making them? He was seventeen, far too late to attempt befriending someone. He would often compare himself to his mother, who was an independent woman who lacked basic empathy, and she did well on her own, especially after the loss of her husband. How she lives such a prosperous life, it would be an utter shame to see her fall.

 

       The hallway of the flat was long and narrow. There were rounded mirrors at the end of each wall. He checked his reflection assuring himself that he is who he is, nothing more, nothing less as he ran his hand through his hair. He twisted the key in place, locking the door, which had a tag on it labeled with his name, Tommen. Today he had decided to take the stairs rather than using the lift. There always seemed to be spare time on his hands, why not take advantage of it? 

 

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      The train ride seemed to drag on for a longer period than usual, only making brief stops to deliver and receive passengers. There was an older woman, with whom had a stout appearance. She dragged along a carriage in which held an infant. He couldn’t recall ever having a mother who was loving or caring, instead she would neglect his needs turning to the eldest brother who demanded things go his way. 

 

      He felt a feeling of pity wash over him as she so desperately searched for a seat and a place to perch her carriage against. It was when she made his way over to him, he rose and pleaded for her to take his place as it was no longer needed. 

 

      It was on the few occasions where he was forced to visit his family during holiday. Those trips were ones he rarely looked forward to, but they had to be done. 

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289 days.

 

      He paused for a brief moment, putting his hand on the doorknob as he pulled the sleeve of his pullover down, concealing his scarred wrist.  _ Victory scars.  _ It had been approximately two hundred and eighty-nine days since he had last seen his mother and his brother; the last time he had stepped into the ever so feared house of horrors. The house was fairly large, it stood about three stories high, and had a fresh coating of paint applied to it. He drew in his breath shortly before the front door was opened by a stout looking woman, evidently the house maid. When she asked to take his belongings, he simply shook his head and carried them in on his own as it should be done. 

 

      His mother sat at the dining table, gulping down her alcoholic beverage as her eyes narrowed towards him. His mother always had a favour for alcohol. He’d find her passed out on the living room couch, in which she had red marks scattered across her face. Tommen always recalled the marks his father left on her precious, porcelain skin, and it was always  _ horrifying  _ to see what man is capable of.  _ The fragile woman who weeps in the corridor.  _

 

     He then placed himself sitting on the opposite end of the table facing his mother. There was one thing he noticed that seemed a bit off, which happened to be the absence of his older brother. It wasn’t like he had a favour for him but still… He then decided to speak up. After all, it was only on rare occasions where he held conversations with his  _ beloved  _ mother. 

 

     “You look lovely, mother. Thank you for inviting me back home for summer holiday…”

 

      “‘Tis a  _ pleasure _ . Your presence is of great importance, no holiday is the same without a  _ complete _ and  _ whole family.  _ Would certainly not want to have you gone longer than originally planned.”

 

     She then took yet another sip of her wine, bringing the glass towards her face as she took a gentle sip. She’d offer him a glass of the beverage rather for him to decline the offer. He’d seen the effects of alcohol, how it corrupts the mind, how it tore apart his family like so. How his father nearly destroyed everything they’d worked so hard for as he was so intoxicated to the point where he’d forgotten who they were and the significance of having a family. He’d never dreamed of becoming like his father. Strange though, how sons look up to their fathers as Tommen was inclined to agree with the statement. 

 

_      Shame _ . His father ceased to exist now. 

 

     There was a brief moment of silence before he’d inquired about his brother’s whereabouts. Cersei shook her head before adding: “You know how your brother is in regards to eating.”

 

     “Still?”

 

     She nodded her head in response. It had been well over two years since his brother had developed an eating disorder. He recalled a moment in time where he’d found Joffrey doubled over in pain as everything he’d forced up was now spilled onto the marble bathroom floor, smudges of blood covering his hand. That was a  _ weak _ moment. 

 

     Tommen knew well enough not to question his mother’s actions, but if she had so called _ ‘loved’ _ her children, why hadn’t she done anything in regards to her eldest son’s eating disorder? It’d gone on long enough, and despite all the unfortunate circumstances Tommen had gotten himself into because of his brother, he still loved him. 

 

    He’d finished his dinner and asked to be excused from the table as he grabbed his belongings making his way up the stairs as he searched for his room. 

 

     The room was empty and had a rather stale scent to it. He set his belongings down near the window as he took a look from it. There was no one to be found outdoors at this hour, which couldn’t be helped as the sun had already begun to set. He’d taken a brief glance at the clock hung on the wall, which now read that it was half past eight. It was at that moment where he’d made the decision to make his way over to his brother’s room, inform him of his presence even though in Joffrey’s case it might not be wanted as that usually was the case. He didn’t know why he bothered, but it’d been ages since they’d last seen each other and separation was no way to go in terms of family, correct? He knocked at the door in which was snapped open almost instantly. 

 

     Joffrey tilted his head. “Oh, certainly wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were arriving a week after today, bold of mother to provide false tidings.” 

 

    There was a brief moment of silence before Tommen had decided to speak up and end this rather awkward moment. 

 

    “You were absent during diner, may I ask why?”

 

    “Piss off, you know the answer to your question!” Tommen looked down at the floor before shortly before Joffrey grabbed ahold of his wrist. 

 

    “Still at it slitting your wrist, cunt?” That familiar sadistic grin appeared on his brother’s face once again. Why  _ did  _ he bother checking on him? He then pulled away from him, making his way back to his room where he was left alone for the remainder of the night.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've finally decided to update! Please give me your opinions in the comments as they are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading. <3

 

 

 

 

II

 

 

         

The sound of cups and plates being smashed against the floor.

 

           _Shame._

 

          Screams muffled by old pillows.

 

           _Shame._

 

Knuckles slamming against wooden doors.

 

           _Shame._

 

He often stays awake at night, unable to fall asleep as he's aware of which house he rests in. Tommen's eyes are wide open, scanning the many lines that criss-cross around the inner portion of his left wrist. Scars-  _a reminder._

 

          Tommen often recalls of the night it had happened. The  _first_ night it had happened.  _Father_ , when he had gone was when it had started. The screaming so loud it had muted his thoughts. So he'd dug around frantically, searching desperately for the desired implement belonging to the toolbox. And he hated the way the blood ran down his forearm, he hated the thought of scars forming once the wound was fully healed,  _hated his decision._  

 

          His hand on his wineglass was shaking; his mother had been the first to notice. She'd stopped him from entering his room. "Why did you do this?" a stern look on her face as she awaited a reply to her inquiry; her voice seemed to have dropped a few octaves.  _Because I had to._

 

           Tommen always knew there should never be such a thing in terms of having a favourite child, not that it was of any importance to him, but he'd never earn that place in his mother's heart. Especially not after what she'd seen. 

 

          Holiday dragged on, seeming to have no end to it, and he grew lonely. At this point, he was most certain that his brother had truly despised him. It didn't require a genius to figure that out. He knew he'd never been loved in the first place.

 

          Tommen was going to kill himself one day, he just wasn't sure as to when that would happen. But he played around the scenarios in his head; the details, what his mother would say. For now, he'd put that thought aside.

 

          

 

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          He'd often wonder as to whether miracles were ever possible. It was until he'd met her that he never believed. Yet there she was- standing in awe as her soft, fiery red hair blew following the wind. Her name was Sansa, and she lived in the smaller house next door. She'd stood in fear for a brief moment upon hearing his last name. "I'm not like him, I promise." 

 

          And so she'd listened to his words, thus a friendship was formed.           

 

          Sansa had many photographs, they were scattered along in various places throughout her house. He'd seen most of them, all but one which was covered with a crimson coloured cloth in the dining hall. He wondered, what lay beneath the woolen cloth. He was tempted to ask, but he just _couldn't._ Besides that one, in most photos stood Sansa standing next to a smaller girl, presumably her sister. She had the appearance of her father when standing next to him. 

 

          By the end of the week, Tommen had seen nearly all of the photographs. Sasna had spoken proudly of her family, whilst Tommen wished he could have done the same.  _Oh, what a shame._ Before parting once again, Sansa had asked of Tommen's relationship with Joffrey, which was such an unfortunate question, really. Tommen had always felt obligated to tell a lie, claiming how the two had gotten along so well when that was truly a false statement. "I think I loved him at some point, the feeling was never mutual, though. Sometimes, I think he wants to kill me if he could." She laughed, Tommen faked a smile. "I'm glad you and I are friends," she said with a smile, waving goodbye as he stepped from the front door. 

 

 

 

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          Joffrey was awaiting Tommen's presence by the time he had arrived home. Shocker that was. If he was being honest, Joffrey looked like shit at the moment. His hand was bruised, eyes glassy and unfocused, he'd looked like he'd lost a concerning amount of weight to add onto this.  _Why hasn't mother done anything about this?_ He'd asked why he was with Sansa, how she was such a disgustingly horrible person who deserved little to no rights.  _Don't do it again. Fucking whore and her tactics. Of course someone as pathetic as you would go for a filthy slut as herself. I'll strangle you next time, not like anyone'd care, so it should be fine._ Such weak insults. 

 

          Tommen was strong, but never strong enough to be cruel.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please share your opinions with me in the comments
> 
> Lol, if you can subscribe can you please leave kudos? Thanks.


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